


Day 11: Hanging Stockings ft. Papyton

by Pippiuscattius



Series: Pippi's Holiday Shipping Challenge: Take Two [11]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Adorable Papyrus (Undertale), And I invite you to as well, Bad Puns, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Stockings, Couch Cuddles, Cuddling & Snuggling, Flirting, Holiday Shipping Challenge, I condemn myself for all the puns in this, M/M, Mettaton EX (Undertale), Post-Canon, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Sans (Undertale) Makes Puns, Stockings, sans ships it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:06:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21814144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pippiuscattius/pseuds/Pippiuscattius
Summary: Papyrus invites Mettaton to bring over some stockings to hang over the fireplace. Cute flirting, awful puns, and a nosy brother ensue.(This is part of a collection of silly, rushed drabbles for me to get into the holiday spirit. Make of them what you will, and happy holidays!)
Relationships: Mettaton/Papyrus (Undertale)
Series: Pippi's Holiday Shipping Challenge: Take Two [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1569934
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25
Collections: Papyton Fics





	Day 11: Hanging Stockings ft. Papyton

The Christmas season was easily Papyrus’s favorite time of year since settling in the world above ground. It reminded him of home, with all the snow, lights, decorations, and overall atmosphere. Everyone acted a little bit jollier during the month of December, even Sans (at the price of amped up holiday puns every several minutes). The skeletons intended to celebrate in every way they could, creating a simultaneous connection to the cultures of their roots and new home.

Papyrus had taken it upon himself to decorate his and Sans’s entire house in as many blinking, colorful lights as possible. Their home stood out like a flashing beacon in the neighborhood, and aside from a few near accidents of drivers being blinded when they passed by, all was well.

Sans wasn’t nearly as enthusiastic about the holiday, but he humored his brother and happily helped set things up. When he suggested they partake in the human tradition of “hanging stockings” this year, Papyrus leapt at the opportunity.

“And I know _exactly_ who to call to help us!” he cried, bony thumb hovering over one of his speed dial contacts.

Said contact showed up at their doorstep in record time, wearing a winning smile, hot pink Santa’s hat, and the most fabulous pair of black winter boots fame could buy.

“Mettaton!” Papyrus eagerly greeted, wrapping the robot in a hug and pulling him inside. “I’m so glad you came, I was just about to get the adhesive ready for attaching the stockings.”

Humming with metallic laughter, Mettaton followed him, keeping an arm flung over the skeleton’s shoulders. “I think you’ll like the stockings I picked out, darling. I had you in mind the entire time.”

Giggling, Papyrus led his partner towards his home’s fireplace. Flames were licking at the logs and kindling inside, heating the surrounding bricks nicely and casting a warm aura. A rainbow array of Christmas lights was draped over the mantle, adding further color to the orange glow emanating from within.

“How picturesque,” Mettaton sighed, hands covering his heart core. “You and your brother have really outdone yourselves this year. The light display outside nearly rivals that of the stage lights for my show’s Christmas set!”

Blushing, Papyrus rubbed the back of his neck. “Aww, thanks Mettaton. But nothing could ever shine brighter than you.”

Mettaton broke into more laughter, pulling Papyrus close to his side. Right at that moment, the house’s other inhabitant came traipsing down the staircase, shuffling along in his purple slippers.

“Hey, Paps, is that voice—” Sans stopped in his tracks, eyeing the pair cozying up to each other. “Ah. Yeah. It’s your robo-boyfriend, just like I thought.” He spun on his heel. “I’ll leave you to it, then. You don’t need to worry about me… _stocking_ you.”

“Sans!” Papyrus cried out in protest, even as Mettaton chuckled in his arms. “Ignore my brother, he’s been spouting Christmas puns all month long.”

“I find it rather endearing,” Mettaton playfully countered.

“ _You_ don’t have to listen to it 24/7.” Shaking his head, Papyrus backed out of Mettaton’s arms. “Jokes aside, could I see the stockings?”

“Oh, yes!” Mettaton perked up, opening one of the panel compartments on his chest and rifling around. “I picked out the best ones I could find—humans create such a variety of patterns and designs, there were so many to choose from.”

At last, Mettaton’s hand squeezed back out of the compartment, three oversized socks gripped in his metal fingers. He proudly presented one of these to Papyrus, an orange one with Christmas lights stitched on around the top and bottom. One large, letter “P” stood front and center among the designs.

“This one’s for me?” Papyrus asked, touched. “It’s perfect!”

The skeleton took the proffered stocking, admiring its woolen fabric and clean stitchwork. He rushed into the kitchen, grabbing the adhesive off the table (a little doodad he’d learned was called a “command strip,” a title as confusing as the item was useful). He fumbled with the flat piece of tape, peeling off the back, slapping it above the fireplace, and sticking his stocking’s loop onto the adhesive side.

Hands on his hips and legs astride, Papyrus flashed his teeth. “Another holiday victory for the great Papyrus!”

“Indeed it is, dear,” Mettaton fondly agreed, all but making heart eyes towards the skeleton. “I picked one up for Sans, too, of course…”

“Let me guess.” Papyrus narrow his eyes. “It has a pun printed on it.”

Humming a chuckle, Mettaton revealed the next stocking. This one was a dark blue with fuzzy white trim. The words “No Claus for Alarm” were ironed on the front, along with more fuzzy white trim in the shape of Santa’s beard. Papyrus groaned when he saw it, but a tiny, unmistakable smile fought to shine through on his face.

“You spoil him,” Papyrus groaned, begrudgingly taking the punny stocking and hanging it on the other side of the fireplace.

“Not as much as I spoil you,” Mettaton countered, batting his eyes and leaning seductively against the bricks.

“I certainly _hope_ not!” Papyrus exclaimed in mock alarm.

“I’m kidding,” Mettaton laughed, one last stocking dangling in his grasp. “I mostly indulge Sans’s sense of humor because I find your reactions absolutely _adorable_ , Papy.”

Crossing his arms, Papyrus pouted. He dropped the act when he caught a glimmer of something else at his partner’s side. “What’s that? Another stocking?”

Could robots blush, Mettaton surely would have in that moment. “This? Oh, it’s…it’s nothing, I…just thought I’d pick one out for myself.”

Brightening, Papyrus reached towards it. “Well why don’t we hang it up, too? Then it’ll be complete!”

“I wouldn’t want to impose…” Mettaton rubbed his segmented, metal arm. “I don’t exactly live here.”

“Nonsense!” Before Mettaton could object, Papyrus snatched the final stocking from his hand. “You’re practically part of the family, and of course you’re _more_ than welcome to spend Christmas with us when the time comes!”

This stocking nearly blinded Papyrus when he first got a good look at it. It was black with feathery, hot pink trim. The whole thing was nearly drowned in glittery sequins, light reflecting off its surface like camera flashes at one of Mettaton’s paparazzi meetings. Alongside an image of pink lipstick and a microphone stood the letters “FAB-YULE-OUS” in bold cursive.

For a minute, Papyrus just stared at it. Then, he descended into a spiral of laughter so intense that he nearly dropped the stocking. Mettaton helped hold him upright, giggling himself as Papyrus secured the flashy stocking’s place beside his.

“I just…have one last concern,” Papyrus managed as his laughter died down.

“And what’s that, dear?” Mettaton asked, leaning close.

“Are you going to be able to fit in my stocking?”

Mettaton’s eyes went wide with befuddlement. “Wh…why would I…?”

“Because!” Papyrus chirped, absolutely beaming. “You’re what I want for Christmas!”

At that, Mettaton swore he could feel his heart melting. “Oh, Papy…”

Not fifteen minutes later, Sans descended the stairs to check on the pair. He found them curled together on the couch, soaking up warmth from each other and the newly decorated fireplace. Sans took one look at the stockings and nodded in approval.

“Heh. Told him Paps’d get a kick out of those.”

_Thus ends the eleventh day of Christmas._

**Author's Note:**

> Send me to pun hell, it's where I belong


End file.
